Alaskan Sanctuary. Teri Wilson

words from three days ago came back to him.

      While wolves are indeed predators, I wouldn’t be so quick to call them dangerous...unless you’re a bunny rabbit.

      The sentiment, which he’d merely found annoying at the time, now seemed prophetic. Uncomfortably so. Because in his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined that he himself would be the bunny rabbit in this scenario.

      He was afraid.

      Of what, he wasn’t even sure. It wasn’t the wolves. His feelings were more complicated than that. It was his past, the memories, the wolves and nature itself all rolled together in a tangle of anger, regret, dread...and loss. Loss of life. Loss of control.

      So much loss.

      He was broken. Broken and bitter. That much he’d known. But he hadn’t realized that his fury was also suffused with fear. It was a sobering realization. The wind, the snow, the slender pine boughs were all things he’d once loved. Before the bear attack, he’d slept outside during the summer months, under the stars, more often than he’d lain in a bed at night. That’s why he’d come to Alaska all those years ago. He’d wanted to a build a life in the most majestic place on earth. The kid who’d spent his childhood with his face pressed against hotel windows had beaten a trail to the Last Frontier as quickly as he could.

      Where had that fearless soul gone?

      Ethan stabbed at a pile of straw with the pitchfork and heaved it into the wheelbarrow. Then he did the same thing again, and again. With each jab, he felt the muscles in his arms and back loosen, then begin to burn. But it was a good burn, the kind of sharp ache that came with physical work.

      He made short work of cleaning out Tundra’s pen. Piper seemed genuinely surprised, and possibly even a little impressed, when he told her he was ready to move on to the next enclosure. She even smiled as she escorted Tundra back to her pen. And the way she did was altogether different from the sassy grin she’d greeted him with earlier. This was a genuine smile, full of sweetness and light. Looking at it brought about an ache in the center of his chest that made him forget the burn in his biceps.

      But Ethan knew better. The smile was for the wolf. Not for him. What he didn’t know was why it made him feel so empty inside.